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Updated: May 10, 2025
He was scarcely out of sight when a Mexican vaquero rode in with the information that old Antonio, on his way to the post at Three Pines with a second drove of sheep, had twisted his ankle badly about fifteen miles from the ranch. After trying in vain to pick up a herder at Mesa by telephone, Melissy was driven to the only feasible course left her, to make the drive herself in place of Antonio.
Melissy looked down at the picture, then instantly stooped and picked it up. For it was a photograph of a very charming woman and three children, and across the bottom of it was written a line. "To Bucky, from his loving wife and children." The girl handed it to the man without a word, and looked him full in the face. "Bowled out, by ginger!" he said, with a light laugh.
"But but " Melissy grew pale as the icy fear gripped her heart that the man meant to go on with the crime. "Don't you see? He's the sheriff?" "And I never did love sheriffs," drawled MacQueen. The girl repeated herself helplessly. "It was his sworn duty. That was how he looked at it." A ghost of an ironic smile flitted across the face of the outlaw chief.
She did not answer, but looked straightforward between her horse's ears, without seeing him, waiting for him to give the word to start. Not since the start of their journey had Melissy broken silence, save to answer, in few words as possible, the questions put to her by the outlaw. Yet her silence had not been sullenness.
They must have known each other in the South years ago, and one of them at least was an enemy of the other. There might come a day when she could use this knowledge to save Jack Flatray from the punishment dogging his heels. Melissy filed it away in her memory for future reference. "You wanted to speak to me," she suggested. "I'm going away." "What for?" "Because I'm not a hound.
Melissy, behind the counter, leaned her elbows on it and fastened her eyes on the boyish face of the officer. In her heart she was troubled. How much did he know? What could he discover from the evidence she had left? He had the reputation of being the best trailer and the most fearless officer in Arizona. But surely she had covered her tracks safely. From José the ranger turned to Alan.
"Melissy." Melissa! The two girls looked deep into each other's eyes and, for one flashing moment, each saw the other's heart bared and beating and Margaret saw, too, a strange light ebb slowly from the other's face and a strange shadow follow slowly after. "You mean Major Buford?" "I mean Chad. Is he dead?" "No, he is bringing my brother home." "Harry?" "No Dan." "Dan here?" "Yes." "When?"
A quick step crunched the gravel behind Melissy. She did not need to look around to know that here was Black MacQueen. "What's this what's this, Hank?" he demanded sharply. "The young lady started to come up and speak to old Sit-in-the-Sun. I was just explaining to her how crazy the old squaw is," Jeff answered with a grin. "Oh! Is that all?" MacQueen turned to Melissy.
"Why, what's up, boys?" the rancher asked, his glance passing from one to another. "You ain't in this, Lee," Boone informed him. Then, to Flatray: "See you later." The deputy nodded carelessly. "Any time you like." The lank old Confederate took a step forward to call Boone back, but Melissy caught him by the sleeve. "Let him go," she whispered emphatically.
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